Never Leave
Around him, bookshelves lay on their sides, tables tipped over, contents spilled across the floor. Broken glass littered a space that had once been made to be comforting. Drapes hang, torn from the walls. Feathers spewed out of pillowcases. Pictures that had once held a place of honor on the walls now were strewn across the small, one room apartment.
He felt alone. Amon could only remember one other time he hurt in such a way. He could remember their apartment torn to bits, just like this one.
He had been just ten years old.
He had been frightened, crying in that room. Amon had clutched her hand, her cold hand. Once, it had radiated warmth.
A ten year old boy stood amongst the chaos of a world that had once brought him such comfort.
She left him.
Amon let his head fall into his hands as he slumped to the floor.
She had left him.
He remembered as the carried her cold body away. He hadn't cried when the men in suits came and took her. No, she had already left. He only glared at that body, a shell of what she used to be.
He told himself he hated her. He let himself believe it. The men in suits liked him for that belief anyway. They took him in, and made him believe it more.
It was not warm with them. Not like it had been with her. They gave him a gun and every time he shot it, he thought of that warmth.
He told himself he wanted to rid himself of the memory. Every time he shot one of her kind he remembered the warmth and longed to join them.
For thirteen long years he denied the past, kept distant, and grew up to be cold-hearted and bitter.
Then he met that girl.
The warmth he had learned to forget about came back in an inferno.
Those years of hatred, Amon wanted to take them back. He felt ashamed. Robin showed him, simply by existing in his world, that he had been lying to himself the whole time.
Amon wanted to make this right, he wanted to have that warmth with her.
Yet, time after time, he continued to be afraid. He was scared to try.
Robin could leave him too.
Their life together began to blur with his life so many years ago. It would be the same, wouldn't it? Death, or something worse would come, and she'd leave him.
Maybe he hadn't been wrong all those years. Maybe Robin was lying to him, trying to hurt him.
It drove him mad.
Every time he saw the flames, or every time she was not right at his side, he grew more and more paranoid.
It wasn't right.
He knew he shouldn't feel that way. She gave him such joy, the simple sight of her gave him excitement. It wasn't right.
But she would leave him.
The broken room that they once called home proved she would not come back.
It's all the same in the end.
It's simple.
No, his mother could not return from the dead. No, Robin could never love him again.
Not after her powers had eaten her away. Not after he grew possessive and angry.
Not after bullets ripped through her body before his eyes. Not after his own hands dared to hurt her.
Not after men in suits came to take her body away. Not after she ran from his arms.
It was all the same.
A/N: So...this is kinda depressing. I heard the song "Never Leave" by Seether and couldn't get Amon out of my head for whatever reason, so I decided to explore his character some more. I really want to write more about young Amon. I imagine him as a cute, but disturbed kid.
Anyway, hope you liked it! Thanks for reading and reviewing!